Bright Eyes
by DidgeDemon
Summary: Bright Eyes- HD. How can the eyes that burnt so brightly, suddenly burn so pale? Drug and alcohol abuse. Character Death. One shot.


**Bright Eyes**

**DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter et al. belongs to JK Rowling **

**AN:** Short one shot. If it's not liked, I'll take it down. I did this for a little variety in my writing since I've been working on Lowly Beginnings for so long now. Depressing: Drug use, alcohol abuse, character death, etc.

How can the eyes that burnt so brightly,

Suddenly burn so pale?

Bright Eyes.

Everyone saw you Harry. We all saw you falling into depression. I know that your friends found your drugs in your drawer; heroin, cocaine… Why didn't you stop Harry? Why did you start?

Of course, I know why you started. Sometimes it's easier to run away from problems than it is to face them.

Everyone was- everyone _is- _envious of you… they're jealous because they see the Boy-Who-Lived. They never see the lost little boy you see in the mirror… they see a hero that brought down Voldemort. They don't know that your uncle used to beat you, that your aunt used to starve you, that your cousin used to bully you.

Nobody- except your two best friends- knows that your first real hug was at 14 from Mrs Weasley. Nobody knew that you didn't understand what love and friendship was until you met Ron and Hermione at 11.

We started dating during our 6th Year. I was so happy. We were so happy. Even Ron and Hermione accepted us together after a while. In the end, we did everything together, the four of us; it was like a permanent double date. But of course- Voldemort.

I think he took everything from you. Everything. Your parents. Your godfather. Everyone you cared about.

Voldemort would send you dreams- visions. And I'd wake up naked next to you in bed after having sex and your small, almost delicate, frame would be wracked with sobs and screams so terrified, it hurt me to see you. To listen.

I realise I backed away from you. I was scared. I loved you, but I was scared. I think everyone was. But especially you. Everyone backed away from you- it wasn't just me… not like that makes it any better.

We all hoped that someone else would help you, that someone else would talk to you. I think that everyone saw your lithe, feminine body and thought that inside, you must be strong and powerful- and you were. But we're only as strong united as we are weak divided.

Eventually, although everyone was still around you- we still spent time together, you still laughed with your friends, you still fought with your teachers- we may as well have not been, for all the support we gave you.

We never talked about anything helpful, no one, not even Dumbledore, gave you advice. Like I said, we all hoped something miraculous would happen- that Voldemort would drop dead, or you'd suddenly develop super powers.

Was it when you walked through the great hall and recognised everybody's face before you realised that there was no one there you knew that you found an alternative to us? Drugs. Alcohol. But not cutting. You always knew people relied on you. You didn't want to die. You didn't want to commit suicide. Drugs were just your escape, you alternative to human company which wasn't available to you through our own stupidity.

We all saw you falling, as the war progressed and you were called more often to training, to the ministry for briefings, to Dumbledore's office for updates.

Every time you left a meeting, you'd smile faintly at me, and then disappear to the toilet for a few minutes. And you'd come back ecstatic. You'd be up for sex- you'd let me do you anyhow, anytime, anywhere. This sounds shallow, but I loved it. But I loved you more. I loved you so much I would have given up everything for you… I just didn't fully realise it.

You sank into despair though because no one helped you. You knew we all knew. And you knew we weren't helping. Maybe you thought we didn't care. But I did. We did. I think we all looked into your eyes and saw them dull when before they used to be so full of like, of sparkling vitality. And we all asked ourselves how the eyes that burnt so brightly, could suddenly burn so pale. We kept silent though. We couldn't- we _wouldn't _answer. But we should have. Because suddenly, a miracle happened…

We woke up in bed together, your raven hair against my blonde hair. Your small build against my tall frame. Your delicate features against my strong ones. I left you in bed as your forehead creased in troubled dreams and I went for breakfast. I knew that the only thing that would go into your system that day would be white and powdered and enter through the nose. I thought I would talk to you later. Make you stop.

But the doors of the great hall flew open. And Voldemort and his death eaters entered. They surrounded us all, and Voldemort asked for you.

Nobody gave away where you were. But you- you foolish baby- you came into the hall- you had felt him arrive.

You strolled in there; hands in pockets like you hadn't a care in the whole. And after you daily dose, I suspected you hadn't.

We all cried for you to run, but you stayed and smiled. I don't think it was skill that allowed you to bring down Voldemort- it was bravery that you dared face him; you'd dared to take drugs because of him… I suppose that was bravery- but you weren't skilful in your fighting. You were too high. And scared. And alone.

It was just the reflection of the Avada Kedavra that Voldemort sent at you that killed Voldemort; it bounced off your silver drug case in your breast pocket… it belonged to your parents. It had a stag, a wolf, a dog, and a hummingbird engraved on it. I had had an eagle and a puma carved onto it for your birthday- my animagus form, and yours. You had loved it- it had your parents' emblems on, your beloved godfather's and Remus Lupins… and it had mine. All people that loved you. Although when you parents had made that little tin, I doubt that thought it would be holding the white powder it did now.

But the green light shot at you reflected. And as it did, you looked at me in the eyes. I don't know whether it was the curse or if it was you, but you eyes burnt so brightly like they used to. Your parents' love, _my _love, had reflected the curse- and I think it was then you realised I loved you with all my heart.

But it was too late. You were gone.

What's ironic is that it wasn't the Avada Kedavra in that hall that killed you. It was an overdose. I should never have left you alone that morning. You would never have taken too much cocaine. Voldemort would have been dead, you'd have been alive and the pressure on you would have been gone. And we would have been perfect.

I'm sorry. And as I, Draco Malfoy, kneel before your grave Harry, I just want to say that I'm sorry. The tears are flowing down my cheeks as they have every other person's that has visited your grave… and it's a lot of people. I don't think you ever knew how many people ever cared about you, because of your relatives, but there were many; teachers, students, friends, strangers… me.

It was going to be alright from then on. We would have let you know properly how much we cared. We would have been there for you properly. We wouldn't have failed you again. But we were too late. And I think the real question on everyone's mind was, 'How can the eyes that burnt so brightly suddenly burn so pale?'

I'm sorry Angel.

I hope you're happy.


End file.
